Time was like droplets seeping through the stone walls of the Heavenly Prison, gathering one by one, silently. As Xu Qian steadily developed through his day-in, day-out "multitasking," not only did his strength improve, but his reputation in the depths of the prison also quietly began to change.
At first, he was just an unremarkable new jailer in Zone D: timid, meek, and barely scraping by.
Later, he became a jailer with "a bit of skill," able to subdue troublemakers, familiar with a few folk remedies, and blessed with decent luck.
Later still, in Zhou Kang's eyes, he was a capable subordinate who "worked hard, knew the rules, and had a good sense of propriety"; in Zhang Meng's heart, he was Brother Qian, "mysterious and powerful, with a heart of gold."
And now, among the prisoners in Block E—and even some in Zone D—Xu Qian had acquired a new label: Jailer Xu, the "Good Samaritan."
This reputation hadn't come about by chance.
First, there was his astonishing knack for "cleaning." The areas under his care were always so spotless it was unbelievable, and even the spaces outside the prisoners' cells had improved quite a bit. The cells themselves were still filthy, of course, but at least seeing the gleaming floor by the door could lift their spirits a little, couldn't it?
Second, he "knew Medical Skill" (or so the prisoners thought; what he actually knew were folk remedies). Ever since the Xue Muhua incident, someone had spread the word that Jailer Xu knew a few country remedies, and that they sometimes worked pretty well. So when prisoners came down with minor ailments, they would cautiously ask him for help as he delivered their meals.
"J-Jailer Xu, I've had diarrhea these past couple of days. Could you..."
"Little Xu, this old man's cough just won't go away. You got any folk remedies?"
"Master Xu, my wound's gotten a bit infected..."
For these harmless requests, Xu Qian would occasionally offer a little "advice," as long as he was sure it wouldn't expose him.
"Diarrhea? Drink more hot water. See those purslane plants by the corner? Pick a couple leaves and chew them." (Purslane could indeed help with diarrhea, but the stuff growing in the corner of the Heavenly Prison was probably useless. It was mainly for peace of mind.)
"Coughing? Don't sleep facing the draft, and try not to eat anything too cold." (Correct, but obvious.)
"An infected wound? Sprinkle some clean wood ash on it, and don't pick at it with your hands." (Basic disinfection and bleeding control—it was better than doing nothing.)
He never made any promises, and his tone was always uncertain, as if to say, "I only heard about this myself. Give it a try; it might not work."
But as it happened, sometimes these "folk remedies" hit the mark by chance—or, with a barely perceptible assist from the Longevity True Qi he used in secret, actually helped a little. Before long, word spread that "Jailer Xu's remedies are kind of effective."
On top of that, he was fairly mild when delivering meals (mostly because he couldn't be bothered with trouble). Unlike some jailers, he didn't beat and curse prisoners at every turn, nor did he deliberately make things difficult or extort them (he didn't care about those paltry gains). Over time, in the eyes of some low-ranking prisoners, Xu Qian became a rare jailer in this pitch-dark prison who was "not that bad"—a "Good Samaritan" they could try to exchange a few words with.
That day, Xu Qian delivered supper to Block E as usual.
When he reached Cell E-35, the habitual thief inside, who had been locked up for stealing, clutched the bars and lowered his voice, speaking with a conspiratorial air. "Jailer Xu, have you heard? There was another commotion in Block C the night before last!"
Xu Qian slowed his steps, wearing just the right amount of curiosity. "Oh? What happened this time?" (Block C? Did they lock up some other ruthless character after that Prince escaped?)
"I heard they locked up a woman! She's a real beauty! But there's something eerie about her!" The thief waggled his eyebrows. "On her very first day, she scared a fellow prisoner in her cell out of her mind! Now nobody dares go near that cell!"
Xu Qian's heart stirred, but his expression remained calm. "A woman? What was so eerie about her?"
"Who knows? The rumors are getting wilder by the minute. Some say she knows sorcery; others say her eyes can ensnare your soul..." The thief spat as he spoke. "Anyway, everyone should be careful lately, especially the night-shift guards..."
Xu Qian nodded without asking anything else, scooped up a ladleful of gruel, and poured it in. "All right, quit prying into things like that and eat your food."
"Sure thing. Thanks, Jailer Xu!" The thief grinned sheepishly and shrank back.
When he reached Cell E-West-12, the man inside—the one whose leg had been broken over a gambling debt and who could now barely sit up thanks to Xu Qian's "folk bone-setting remedy" (which was really just telling him not to move around)—saw Xu Qian and did his best to smile. "Little Xu, you're here."
"Mm. How are you feeling today?" Xu Qian asked casually.
"Much better. My leg doesn't hurt as much. It's all thanks to you..." the man said gratefully.
Xu Qian waved a hand and continued delivering the meals.
Scenes like this occurred throughout his rounds. Some prisoners complained to him about how bad the food was; others shared prison gossip and everyday gripes; and some simply greeted him.
Most of the time, Xu Qian just listened and occasionally replied with a word or two. He was neither warm nor cold, maintaining the image of a Good Samaritan who "felt a little sympathy but couldn't do much to help."
But in his mind, he carefully filed away every scrap of information: the "eerie" new woman in Block C, which cell had been tense lately and might erupt into trouble, and the secret grudges between certain prisoners...
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